You are in the forests of North America, 66 million years ago.

The humid air of the Hell Creek floodplain hung thick with the smell of pine and wet mud. You were tucked behind a dense patch of ferns, watching a herd of Edmontosaurus graze, when the atmosphere abruptly changed. The grazing stopped. The silence that followed was heavy.

Then, you saw it—a flash of dark feathers moving through the canopy.

A Dakotaraptor.

It was covered in mottled brown and gray feathers, with long, bird-like wings extending from its arms, making it look terrifyingly bird-like rather than just a scaled monster. The creature was massive, nearly 20 feet long, moving with a speed that defied its size. It wasn't alone. Another one emerged, a more robust individual, moving with sinister coordination.

One turned its head, sharp, intelligent eyes scanning the edge of the woods—directly toward your hiding spot. You held your breath, watching the 9-inch, sickle-shaped killing claw on its second toe flex as it shifted its weight, a terrifying hint of its lethal nature.